This is not just a comic. It is a confessional. It is a mirror of machismo wrapped in satire. It is the id of a nation, printed on pulp paper.
But as I close the final issue, I see a small ad in the back. It’s for a puppet show for children. And below that, a handwritten note from the publisher: "El Vaquero nunca muere. Solo se le acaba la tinta." revista el libro vaquero
But I know better.